It's High Time
by Desertfyre
Summary: Tag to 1x18: Identity Crisis. Reese comes to check on Finch the morning after his ecstasy high wore off.


Disclaimer:  As Sexy as John Reese is and as adorable as Harold Finch is, I do not own Person of Interest. That honor belongs to the CBS. I applauded the creators for coming up with such a great crime drama show. We were in desperate need of that. All I own is the Reese dream I had the other night, so paws off that!

A.N:  It's been a long time since I wrote a fanfic. Ran out of ideas and been kinda busy. I thought my 1st fanfic of this year would be something else that's been rolling in my head, but haven't gotten the chance to write it yet.

I have recently joined a number of new fandoms: Once Upon a Time, Grimm and last but never resembling least, Person of interest.

So it seems that Reese and Finch have designated a fanfic out of me. Reese already got dreams out of me...

So without any further ado this idea popped up after my dreams….

Summary: Tag to 1x18: Identity Crisis. Reese comes to check on Finch the morning after his ecstasy high wore off.

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Finch groaned and rolled over almost falling off the couch he was situated on. The first thing he noticed was a massive pounding in his head. Like construction work that was going on.

Why did he have a headache the size of the whole of New York City?

God knows, he stuck to a strict diet, never drinking anything stronger than coffee or tea. So what would make him have a massive headache? He gave another groan, his hand coming up to hold his head.

"Good morning, Finch. How are you today?" came a very soft (and did Finch detect some amusement in it) voice.

Finch groaned again and worked on opening his eyes. It took great pain to do so. He was thankful that he did not open his eyes to bright sunlight. The curtains must have been pulled to. It took a few moments to focus but when he did, he slowly looked around. Granted everything was blurry but still. His eyes finally came to see a blurry black figure standing over him. He squinted to focus but it did not help his head any and had to close his eyes and rub his head once again.

A soft chuckle followed his actions and something was pressed into Finch's hand. Finch brought it up to his face and squinted at it. It took a moment for him to figure out what the devil he was holding.

If Finch was a blushing person he would have, as a wave of embarrassment hit him. Calmly trying to remain his dignity, he placed his glasses upon his face before sitting up. The shift in equilibrium had him holding his head once again, until the heartbeat in his head eased a bit.

Then he looked back up to the now normal figure of John wearing all black.

The two men stared at each other, one waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, John reached over a nearby table and handed Finch a cup who blinked at it before gingerly taking it. The strong whiff caught his scent and he couldn't help but wiggle his nose which shot a jolt of a heartbeat to his brain.

"Why do I have a headache, Mr. Reese?" he asked rubbing his temples. He was getting annoyed by his head right about now.

"What do you remember?"

Finch looked up at Reese warily, "You did not answer my question and remember about what, Mr. Reese and what is this? It's not coffee that's for sure." He raised the cup up slightly indicting the questionable brown liquid.

John took a seat across from Harold, "It's a concoction for headaches. It's rather vile but very effective."

"And that brings us back to the main question, why do I have a headache in the first place?"

"What do you remember?" was the same counter question.

"I'm not in the mood for games, Mr. Reese", Harold deadpanned still holding his head.

"Believe me… I'm not playing a game. I'm serious. What do you remember?" John was firm and Finch saw that he wasn't going to answer his question until he first answered his.

Harold thought briefly, "We were on a job."

John nodded.

"…about someone stealing someone's identity. Are they alright?" he asked. He didn't remember all the details at the moment, but he had to know if they did what they set out to do.

John gave a small smile. Typical Harold. Able to care about the numbers and victims before himself. "Yes, Finch. He's okay."

"What happened?"

"Don't change the subject. We'll talk about that later." John sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, "Continue. What else do you remember?"

"Uh….I. Don't. Know." Finch really couldn't remember.

Reese studied him a good moment before gesturing to the untouched cup, "Drink. It'll help."

Finch eyed it dubiously before obeying, almost gagging on it. "What is this?"

"Trust me. You do not wish to know."

Finch said nothing more until he was able to down it which took all if his concentration and three minutes of their time. When he was done, he handed the cup to Reese who set it on the table. "So, why do I have a headache?" he asked once again.

"Truthfully, cause you were as high as a kite."

Finch blinked once.

Then again.

John was amused at the stunned owlishness of Finch who finally was able to talk again, "I'm sorry...?"

"You were drugged with ecstasy, Mr. Finch. Remember, that lady we thought was the one that was the victim was actually the perpetrator. She has a long rap sheet to back it up. She drugged you. But not to worry she will be serving time for her crimes."

All Finch heard at that moment was that he was drugged. "Are you...joking?"

John's face was grim, "I would not joke about such a thing. What reason would I have for that?"

"Well, you do have an odd sense of humor." came the reply.

"Better than almost no sense of humor", was the semi-chipper reply followed by a chuckle.

Finch gave Reese that typical look.

John looked bemused, "My point exactly."

Finch rubbed his head, which was started to ease slightly which made him very thankful for. "So what happened...when I was...high?"

John couldn't help the smile, "Don't worry Finch. You didn't make too big a fool of yourself and damage your reclusive reputation."

"I don't make fool of myself."

"Apparently, you did last night. By the way, Fusco called to check on you. Wanted to make sure you were done with your hippie dancing."

Finch blinked, "Hippie dancing?"

"That's what Fusco called it."

John had never seen Finch do anything close to blushing but he thought that was what's was happening, considering that Finch's face was turning red and he looked his version of mortified which is an expression that he had never seen on Finch's face either.

More like Finch's entire face was frozen and he hadn't blinked for the last thirty seconds and his face was reddening slightly.

Either way...

Finch finally snapped out of it and lowered his gaze, holding his head. "I can't believe I was drugged. I never took drugs in my life! I even try to stay away from hospital drugs."

John couldn't resist the tease, "Fusco can see why. Wish I could have seen it. I think you scarred him."

Finch glared at Reese, "That is not funny."

A huge grin cracked through, "Come on, it's a little funny."

"Are you done, Mr. Reese?"

Deadpanned Finch was back and John thought discretion was a better part of the valor. He gave a short nod but the grin dying down to a smile that still could not help but linger on his face. There was a small telling silence.

"Did I…..say anything?"

The ex-CIA raised an eyebrow, "About what exactly?"

"Anything."

"That's a little vague."

"I'm not in the mood for games, Mr. Reese."

"And I'm not entirely sure why you think I'm playing one." John stood and looked down at Finch, "If you are asking whether you kept your privacy intact, the answer is yes."

"How do you know?"

John looked down cocking his head, "I just do."

"How?" Finch pressed.

John searched for an answer to satisfy his boss, "Well, I had no reason to sit and listen to you ramble about things and when you were with Fusco there was the job at hand to deal with, ergo your privacy is intact."

Finch eyed Reese a good minute before slowly nodding, "Very well, I should hope that both of you will remain discreet."

"I don't think that is a problem, Harold." John smiled before picking up the cup and turning away.

"Where you going?"

"You have to get some more rest and I'm going to go clean my weapons while you get said rest."

Finch blinked a moment before a thought popped in his head and he struggled to rise, "Wait, I have to check the machine. We could be behind numbers." He was gently pushed back down and held there effortless.

"You can hardly function right now. You are no good to us if you can't function. Get some rest."

"I cannot get rest when there could be potential victims. Mr. Reese, this is serious." Finch struggled in vain to get back up, "Besides, I'll be on the computer, a hardly taxing job."

A small frown fixed upon John's face, "I am serious, Finch. You need to rest. Besides you are just getting over a massive headache and looking at a glaring computer screen will not help matters. Why else do you think this room is half dark?"

"You were shot and in a wheelchair, Mr. Reese and you did not back down from the job and neither will I."

"I was still in my right mind; you however are still slow and sluggish."

"I am not."

"Fine, if you can get up by yourself and walk to your computer, I'll let you do what you do best, Finch." John stood aside taking a seat in the chair he was sitting in previously. He crossed his legs and looked pointedly at the reclusive billionaire.

Finch blinked and it took a moment to realize what John had said. He leaned forward to get up. He only managed to lift himself a fraction before dizziness hit him and he sunk back down, shutting his eyes tightly. All the while Reese was silent.

"Perhaps a nap will not harm anything", Finch conceded lying back down.

"I'm glad to see you are regaining your senses" came the gentle reply.

Now that Finch had laid back down and closed his eyes he was starting to feel sleepy again. He felt his glasses leave his face. On reflex his eyes fluttered noting the blurriness.

"Your glasses are on the table."

Finch hummed a response before muttering, "You certain that we can take this untimely break?"

"Yes."

Finch felt Reese move away. "John."

John turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Thanks."

John only smiled before going to clean his weapons. "It's high time he got some rest...even if it's after being drugged to do so." He couldn't resist a chuckle at his own joke.

**FIN. **

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My first Person of Interest oneshot. Hope it went well and the two were reasonably in character. I hope you all enjoyed!


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